


Six Ways You Bang When You’re in a Committed Relationship

by alilactree



Category: Glee
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-05
Updated: 2016-02-05
Packaged: 2018-05-18 10:05:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5924329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alilactree/pseuds/alilactree
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The title is pretty self-explanatory, I think.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Six Ways You Bang When You’re in a Committed Relationship

1\. Like you’ve never had sex before.

Sex with Kurt is amazing. Getting to be with him like that, to feel his soft skin and watch his breath catch high in his chest. The noises he makes and the awed, nervous-yet-bold way he touches Blaine. Amazing. Because it’s Kurt and Blaine loves Kurt and loves being with him, completely connected and totally bared.

Objectively speaking, however. They aren’t exactly great at it. It’s just—There’s a lot of fumbling and blushing and checking in: Is this okay? Can I? Does it hurt? Faster? Slower? More? Less? There have been some mishaps. Pant legs get stuck. Parents come home unexpectedly. Knees hit places they shouldn’t because it’s hard to maneuver in the back seat of a pitch black car, and Blaine thought it was the gearstick until Kurt wheezed and crumpled into a ball. And after all of that, it tends to be over fast. Really fast. Really very fast.

But they’re young, Blaine knows, and theoretical knowledge gleaned from Internet porn and educational pamphlets does not exactly translate into real-world skills. That takes practice. Practice both Blaine and his bashful but eager boyfriend are more than happy to work on.

It’s been a few weeks since they’ve had any time alone. Between Sectionals and midterms and then the holidays, it’s mostly been frustratingly brief make-out sessions and a few rushed handjobs after the occasional date they’ve managed to squeeze in. But now, school is on break and Blaine’s mom is at work and the house is empty and Kurt is here.

“Hey, you.” Blaine opens the door, trying to act casual but he’s stung so tight it’s as if someone stuck a wind up key in his spine and turned it until he was nothing but tightly contained energy ready to snap. “Thirsty?” He manages, still barely holding it together after Kurt brushes a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

“No.” Kurt grabs Blaine’s hand and strides up the stairs to Blaine’s room with a single-minded focus Blaine is so, so thankful for.

The door is swiftly shut, clothes easily shed. Blaine skims his fingertips over every gorgeous hard line and plane of Kurt’s body revealed to him. Lays Kurt out on the bed and does the same with his mouth. He gets to do this. With Kurt. It’s amazing.

“What do you want?” Kurt says, breath hitching, pulse fluttering beneath Blaine’s lips at his throat.

“Anything.” Blaine mumbles. God, he tastes so good. Has he always tasted this good?

Kurt tugs at Blaine’s hair in what is probably meant to pull Blaine away from going to town on his neck, but it really just makes Blaine moan. Kurt huffs out a little frustrated laugh. “Blaine. I hate when you say that. Anything.”

Blaine does finally lift away from the bright spot of purple-pink he’s raised beneath Kurt’s jaw. “It’s true,” he says, looking at Kurt steady and sincere. “I love everything we do, because—Because I love you. So much.”

Kurt rolls his eyes affectionately, but he’s pleased, rubbing circles up and down Blaine’s spine. “Okay, but. I want to know, really. What do you want to do?”

Usually, it’s Blaine asking Kurt that question, but Kurt is so purposeful today and it’s sexy as hell, so all right. “Can we…” Blaine starts, looking down Kurt’s chest, the flat bowl of his stomach, the dark thatch of hair below. Just say it. “Do anal? Like before?”

Kurt’s hands pause on Blaine’s back. He doesn’t scoff like last time, though: Ugh, Blaine. Can we seriously not call it that? When Blaine glances back up Kurt’s nose is wrinkled, his eyebrows furrowed in concern. “Are you… Are you sure?”

Which is fair enough. Last time had been iffy, at best. There had been a lot more pinching and burning than Blaine was prepared for, and lube went everywhere and the slippery condom was near impossible to get on. And when Kurt had finally inched his way inside, so slow, so careful, he’d pulled back once, pushed back in and came, shaking and shocked and bright red from his hairline to his bellybutton.

Blaine drops a kiss to the center of Kurt’s chest, rolls off of him and onto his back and says, “Yeah. I want to try again.” It’s the only way to get better.

This time is nothing like the last time. The whole experience something brand-new. Maybe because they’ve done it the wrong way or maybe because they spend so long enjoying each other, giving and taking pleasure with Kurt inside him just a continuation instead of a means to an end. The condom is still a pain, Kurt is still blushing and lip-bitten nervous as he sits against the headboard and directs Blaine to straddle his lap, holding himself steady at the base and Blaine securely by the waist.

“Oh. Oh my—That feels so good.” Blaine groans and gasps, rises and falls, and thinks, this. This is sex. A dozen times they’ve been intimate now, and still it all feels brand new, and incredible and Blaine really, really loves everything they do. And now they’re even getting good at it. How long will it feel this way?

Blaine can’t imagine when Kurt around him and Kurt inside him won’t be a revelation.

2\. You plan to, and then you don’t.

Blaine: I’m so sorry, June is making me do yet another run through. Again. Be home in another 30 or so?

Kurt: Did you tell her it’s our make-up anniversary dinner because I had to work on our actual anniversary?

Blaine: Yes. She went on a rant about her fifth husband and “carrying deadweight” :(

Kurt: Charming. Well I guess this “deadweight” will have the ricotta gnocchi and wine and raspberry cheesecake all by himself.

Kurt: In bed.

Kurt: Naked.

Kurt: Which is where I am.

Blaine: Oh god. I gtg, but. You are not deadweight you are amazing and gorgeous and I want you so badly it’s killing me. I’ll be home as soon as I can. Love you. Love you. Love you.

Kurt snaps his phone off, wishing he were more annoyed than he is. Blaine obviously feels terrible, and June is pushy and rude, but also rich and very well connected, which is good for both of their futures. Their future together. And missing their anniversary in the first place was Kurt’s fault, he just completely blanked on asking off at the diner. All they ended up doing was splitting a milkshake during Kurt’s break while Kurt apologized over and over and Blaine looked at him with those giant sad Bambi eyes.

Kurt sighs. Pads to the kitchen and grabs a thin slice of cheesecake, brings it back to bed and takes a picture of the plate set just so in his naked lap. He sends it Blaine. He isn’t mad, not really, and he knows Blaine is probably beating himself up for disappointing Kurt.

Kurt: A little tease for both of us ;)

Forty five minutes, another slice of cheesecake and three glasses of wine later, Blaine bangs into the loft out of breath and frantic. He calls for Kurt and thumps his bag, then his shoes onto the floor, rushes in past the curtain with his coat dangling from one arm.

“I am so sorry.”

Kurt waves him off, lazily grinning from the bed. He doesn’t care. He’s all…relaxed…and buzzy… “’S’all right.” Kurt slurs.

“It’s not. We’ve been planning this for weeks and you finally got everyone out of the loft and I’ve been thinking about it all day. I swear she kept me late on purpose.” Blaine crawls onto the bed, hovers over Kurt and leans down for a peck. “Are you mad?”

Kurt grins. “Nah.”

Blaine licks his lips and tilts his head. “Are you drunk?”

Kurt grins again. “Nah.”

Blaine chuckles, then lifts the duvet from Kurt’s lap. “Mmm. Did you eat?”

“Nope.” The p pops loudly in the quiet apartment. Then, even louder, Kurt’s stomach growls.

Blaine drops the duvet, licks his lips in an entirely different way, then asks, “Naked gnocchi?”

Naked gnocchi is so good.

“This is so good.” Blaine moans, seated next to Kurt in bed, now with his own plate set in his naked lap.

“I know. I stopped by that Italian market we keep meaning to try.” Kurt says, shoveling in another delicious mouthful.

“I think we need to live there and eat nothing but this gnocchi for the rest of our lives.” Blaine takes another bite. Moans again.

“Agreed.” Kurt says.

They eat the whole pot and then more cheesecake and more wine and Kurt drops onto Blaine’s chest completely sated and satisfied, even though—“We forgot to have anniversary sex.” Kurt yawns, snuggles in more closely.

Blaine yawns back. “Oh yeah.”

Kurt cups his hand on Blaine’s cute little round belly, smiles to himself and closes his eyes. “Raincheck?” He falls asleep before Blaine answers, completely content in Blaine’s arms. Best anniversary ever.

3\. Lazily, over a long stretch of time.

“Why are you still wearing pants?”

The moment they had seen their last visitor off and locked the door behind them, Kurt pounced; pawing at Blaine’s chest and arms and ass, and his pants are still on because it’s been about five seconds since Burt and Carole left for the airport and Blaine is pinned immobile between Kurt’s body and the door. Not that he’s complaining.

They’re in their own apartment, back in New York, all moved in, house warmed, out of town visitors throughly visited. And they still have days before they have to get back to work and school and real life. For now they have each other, and time. So much time.

“Wait, wait.” Blaine gasps, hips bucking as Kurt shoves a hand in past his waistband. “Kurt, wait.”

Kurt kisses him and breathes out harshly, whines against Blaine’s lips. “Why?”

“Because…” Blaine pulls at his wrist, kisses at the inside, the tips of each flexing finger. “We have time.”

It takes a moment for the lust to clear Kurt’s eyes, for his racing heart to slow against Blaine’s chest. “Time?”

“So much time.”

Both showering together and sex in the shower typically fall into the better in theory category. However, standing under the hot water lazily kissing and twined together, slippery and warm, definitely avoids that. Blaine spends a decadent amount of time pressed close behind Kurt—his cock settled in the cleft of Kurt’s cheeks—thumbing at his nipples, mouthing at his neck and ears and jaw, sliding his palm teasingly down his stomach and groin and over the tender insides of his thighs.

Kurt, in turn, shoves Blaine up against the shower wall, kisses the breath from his lungs and curls a loose fist around Blaine’s cock, too slow and lazy to do anything but build and build and build. Blaine is helpless, moaning and floating on pleasure. He doesn’t even care that the tile is freezing cold against his back.

They dry off, then fall back into each other, Blaine hauled up on the counter and Kurt writhing liquid-like between his legs. Blaine holds Kurt’s face, his wet hair, tightens his thighs around Kurt’s hips until they’re both trembling and goose-fleshed and giggling.

Blaine comes for the first time minutes after they fall onto their bed, Kurt’s hot mouth on his cock far too exquisite to resist; he tumbles, free falls. He always has, when it comes to Kurt. Blaine catches his breath, laughs, and Kurt crawls up his body. His eyes are dark, but his mouth is quirked up in a grin. Blaine brushes Kurt’s flopped over bangs from his forehead. He looks so young, with his hair like that, like the boy Blaine was still learning, instead of the man Blaine knows so well.

Kurt’s eyes flash wicked then, and he lifts up to his knees, holding Blaine’s gaze in his as he strips his cock, grunts, and comes across Blaine’s chest.

“Round one,” Kurt says.

After clean up, they cuddle under the covers, Blaine tucked on Kurt’s chest, their legs slotted together, Kurt’s fingers twisting in his curls. They’re getting frizzy fast, Blaine can just tell, but he’s way too blissed out and comfortable to worry about that. He’ll fix it in a little while.

“Know what we should do?” Kurt says, voice airy and musing.

Blaine is thinking a nap. “What should we do?”

“Ferry ride.” He twirls a curl absentmindedly.

“Yeah?” Blaine says. “To where?” There are sightseeing cruises, the Staten Island ferry, the Governor’s Island ferry, the East River ferry, the Circle Line Liberty Cruise, the Ikea water taxi…

Kurt makes a noise of uncertainty. “I hadn’t gotten that far yet.”

Blaine smiles, his cheek squashing against Kurt’s chest. He loves when Kurt shares all the little hazy daydreams of his heart, no matter how silly.

For a while after that, they stay in bed, until Kurt’s fingers get a little more demanding in Blaine’s hair, and Blaine’s hand no longer rests on Kurt’s ribs but instead is cupped over his soft cock. Blaine gives in to an urge, licks broad and then pointed over Kurt’s nipple, pinches it between his teeth, then Kurt gasps and his cock pulses against Blaine’s palm and he yanks Blaine’s mouth to his with a fistful of hair.

Tension pulls at the base of Blaine spine, but Kurt tears his lips away, says against Blaine’s cheek. “I’m starving.”

Between moving and guests, they’ve eaten out an embarrassing amount lately, so they sit at the kitchen table in their underwear—because Kurt insists on underwear—half hard and stealing lingering glances between bites of cold leftover pesto ravioli and Tandoori chicken and pizza and udon noodles.

Then Blaine drops to his knees at Kurt’s chair, peels his briefs down just far enough to tuck the elastic band beneath his balls, and blows him right there in the kitchen, the leftovers still spread across the table and the underwear-in-the-kitchen rule technically unbroken.

He fucks Kurt over the back of the couch, Kurt white-knuckled on the pillows and Blaine gripping just as tightly to Kurt’s hips. He takes them both right up to the edge, then pulls back and out and off. Takes Kurt to the bedroom and fucks him long and slow and deep. To the edge and back, over and over again.

It’s dark by the time Blaine’s orgasm overtakes him, so hard it feels wrung from the marrow of his bones. He passes out before he manages to get the covers over his feet. Wakes minutes, hours, days later, he has no idea, to Kurt curled up behind him, rocking into him slick and rhythmic and panting in Blaine’s ear.

Wakes again to weak morning light in dark blues and oranges sneaking in past the curtains, finds Kurt sprawled and open-mouthed and dead to the world, and the sight of him like that makes Blaine’s chest ache with affection. He kisses Kurt’s cheek, nuzzles into his neck, and reaches down to rub over the bulge beneath the covers experimentally.

Kurt gives a thready little whine, lifts his hips, and the bulge swells.

Half-asleep and still turned on, Blaine fumbles for the lube left out on the dresser. Squirts a dollop into both hands, kicks the covers away and closes his eyes. Settles back on his pillow and jerks them both off slow and sleepy.

“Hmm,” Kurt sighs. “Round. Um…”

“Infinity,” Blaine fills in.

4\. Quickly, before work.

“Hey. Eat.” Kurt jabs a fork in the air as Blaine rushes by.

“I did,” he protests. Okay, wallet, keys, phone, briefcase…

“Two cups of coffee and a mint do not count as eating.”

Blaine scowls, checks inside the briefcase again. He has the script, the score, the itemized budget plan, the spread sheet of projected earnings…

“Blaine.”

“What?” Blaine snaps, then grimaces. “Sorry. I just—I’m too anxious to eat. I’ll grab something later.” He feels bad, and has probably pissed Kurt off now which is really just what he needed, but they’ll have to fight later because he can’t focus on anything but this meeting right now.

“Hey,” Kurt says, soft, not angry. “Come here.” Blaine releases an impatient breath, but does as Kurt requested, dropping his briefcase on the couch and letting Kurt stand up and fuss over him.

“I know you’re anxious,” Kurt says, feeding him a bite of scrambled eggs. “But you’ve got this.” Another bite. “You are prepared. The music is fantastic. The story is moving.” Two more bites. “The budget is through and reasonable.” Three more bites. “Breathe, honey.”

“I know.” Blaine says, after swallowing the food. He does feel better, he has to admit. But that’s probably Kurt, not the eggs. “It’s just—If this producer says no I—“

Kurt fixes Blaine’s bowtie, smoothes his collar. “You’ll find someone who isn’t a complete idiot for passing up a bonafide Blaine Anderson musical theater triumph.”

Blaine’s shoulders relax and he smiles up at Kurt. “I love you.”

Kurt waggles his eyebrows saucily. “You’re gonna love me more in a second.” Before Blaine can get clarification, he’s unbuckling Blaine’s belt and unbuttoning his pants, pulling the zipper down and sliding his hand in.

“Kurt, what—I have to go—“ Blaine cuts off with a squeak when Kurt takes him in hand and pulls.

“Just breathe. Relax. I’ve got you.”

What else can he do, really? His husband’s hand tight and perfect, his lips on the shell of Blaine’s ear, whispering how amazing and talented and wonderful he is, how proud Kurt is, that’s right, there you go, come on honey.

He even grabs a napkin to catch the mess as Blaine comes, lifting up to his toes and crying out Kurt’s name. He tucks Blaine back in, buttons and zips and buckles, gives Blaine’s butt a friendly pat. “All set.”

“I—“ Blaine’s brain is blessedly calm and quiet. He’s not even slightly nervous now. “Thank you.”

“Anytime.” Kurt winks, sits back down to eat his toast. “Now go get ‘em.”

Later on, Blaine gets his producers and Kurt gets a much more enthusiastic thank you.

5\. Not because you need to, but just because you can.

Kurt flips through the channels for the fourth time, as if this round something marginally interesting will magically appear in the listings. Nothing. Blaine is slumped next to him, head tipped back against the armrest and feet tucked under Kurt’s leg, staring off into space and whistling nonsense.

Nothing on TV. He’s all caught up on social media and gossip and news. Not in the mood for a movie.

“I’m bored,” Kurt says, sighing. “Want to go out?”

Blaine purses his lips, wiggles his toes, clicks his tongue. “Nah.”

Kurt frowns. It’s cold out, well into the winter doldrums, with gray clouds and gray snow piled on the sidewalks and wind that cuts sharp. The apartment is warm and cozy. And he’s already in lounge pants, so. “Yeah me either.”

One more time through the channels, and Kurt gives up, tosses the remote aside and groans. So bored. Nothing to do… He looks to Blaine for entertainment. Cards? Board game? Sing along? Or maybe…

“Hey,” Kurt says. Blaine lifts his head. “You wanna?” Raises an eyebrow, flicks his head toward the bedroom.

Blaine pouts his lips in thought, tips his head back then up again. “Eh, okay.”

It’s so nice to have Blaine there whenever, knowing he always wants Kurt, even if it isn’t a desperate need to have you right now sort of want. But they love each other, always, and want each other always. Even if it’s for fifteen minutes of entertainment when nothing is on TV and it’s too cold to go out.

6\. With passion that you’d forgotten.

“Holy shit.” Kurt can’t feel his limbs. His ears are ringing. He’s pretty sure he momentarily left his body. “Oh my god holy shit.”

“I think threw my back out,” Blaine says, collapsed sideways on top of Kurt. “Can’t move. Extreme pain. Worth it.”

It’s not even like they were in a dry spell, even with the baby up every few hours and demanding so much of their care and attention, they’ve had time alone, time to be intimate. But it wasn’t until Blaine’s mom came to visit and insisted they have a night in a hotel to get some uninterrupted sleep did Kurt realize that they had been in a bit of a rut.

A routine is nice, having someone who knows exactly what buttons to push in just the right order is wonderful.

But then, having the kind of sex where they break a lamp and possibly Blaine’s back, and Kurt’s spirit transcends space and time is pretty wonderful as well. Kurt wriggles out from under Blaine so he can breathe again, and Blaine hisses and winces, but he’s fine, sore but not broken. The lamp, on the other hand…

Collateral damage.

Kurt limps his way to the bathroom, cleans up and gets some water, then comes back to bed, tucking into Blaine’s side with a happy hum.

“Oh,” Blaine says, kissing the top of Kurt’s head. “There you are.”

Kurt laughs despite the cheesiness. He loves Blaine’s cheesiness and Blaine knows it. And this. This man, this moment. This intimacy. He loves all of it, in every way.

“I love you, too.” Kurt says. 

Will he ever stop being amazed at just how much?


End file.
